


Love Is

by bob_eclipsa_smith



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: And Fails Miserably, Cliche, F/M, Fluff, Really bad fluff, duh - Freeform, first plance fic, in which nina tries to do romance, plance, since when am i not cliche, slight kallura - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-23 20:55:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13198386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bob_eclipsa_smith/pseuds/bob_eclipsa_smith
Summary: He had no idea what love was. Luckily, she had some idea.Or... I procrastinate my Anastasia fic and try to write Plance romance while failing miserably.





	Love Is

**Author's Note:**

> So sorry. I suck at writing both Pidge and Lance and when I try to write romance it doesn’t go over well. Enjoy?

He had no idea what love was.

He had never experienced it before… especially when regarding his life on Earth. Sure there were girls. Girls that were boisterous, voluptuous. Girls that had long streaming blonde hair, sweeps of brown and red and black. Eyes that sparkled with mystique and a feminine pull that drew him to them like a moth to flame and crushed him into a pitiful puddle of hormones.

Girls… that never gave him more than a cursory glance or a disgusted raise of their perfectly sculpted eyebrows. Still… he tried fruitlessly to gain their affections through any means necessary. Flirting, poorly used puns, sly smirks that he thought could charm the pants off anyone who had eyes and by draping himself fetchingly against the wall (thank you Anna from Frozen).

Still, those attempts grew more and more desperate, and more and more obviously seeking attention. And the girls grew more and more rude, more and more bold in their flippant remarks on his size, his looks and his desperation.

As for Lance, his self-esteem and ego shrunk with each more rejection, and his aptitude to flirt with any girl that cast a vaguely interested glance his direction vastly increased.

He had hoped it would get better when he became the valiant blue and later red paladin of Voltron but alas, things did not go the direction he had planned. They rarely did.

Nyma, Florina, even Plaxus… though she had shown a vague interest despite the fact that a relationship between a mermaid and paladin would have been rather difficult, if not impossible.

And Allura...jeez.

Lance couldn’t even count how many times she had rejected him. Even as his playful and flirtatious admiration for her amazing looks grew into something else entirely. Something that could have been love if she had reciprocated. Lance even found himself growing jealous of Keith, who nonchalantly had gained the princess’ affections before he did. He didn’t really have more proof other than the odd little session in the pod, the small glances she so often interspersed within her long lectures, the soft smiles occasionally gracing her lips when he spoke to her and the tiny touches that she gifted upon his arm whenever she could fit them in.

So yeah, Keith had the princess wrapped around his little finger and he didn’t even know about it, that socially inept son of a bitch.

This is how he found himself one night, sitting in the castle’s main room in his robe and pajamas, clad with his feet wiggling comfortably in his favorite blue lion slippers as he watched the stars all the while evading sleep’s dreadful grasp.

Because hell, when wasn’t Lance McClain’s life one big huge movie cliché?

The first night he did it, he was alone.

The second night he did it, Keith came, looked briefly at Lance, stared blatantly and then walked straight back to wherever he had come from, most likely not willing to or simply unable to join Lance in what seemed to be a personal affair.

The third night, he was treated to an odd surprise, however, as the smallest paladin crept soundlessly to his side, taking a seat besides him and surveying him with concern evident in her honey brown eyes. He stared evenly back at her, this night time thing of his becoming a horrible habit that he almost resented her for joining. He didn’t say anything and she didn’t say anything, just sitting soundlessly together and watching the universe pass them by. The silence grew more comfortable as Lance accustomed himself to her presence, and then they each left with little more than a belated backwards glance to the other, and a soft smile. Then, when the night concluded, Pidge and Lance went back to their day to day activities and different quirks, unacknowledging of the night they had spent before, comfortably enjoying the silence of the other.

The fourth night it happened again. The very same exchange and the very same parting of ways.

The fifth night, when she nodded her head by way of greeting and softly padded to take her seat besides him, he took greater notice than before. He stared unashamedly and unabashedly at her sleep mussed hair, just barely brushing the tips of her freckled shoulders. He stared at the slope of her nose, like a small ski hill sitting atop her face. He stared at her large brown eyes, innocent and curious, with flecks of honey yellow and small traces of her intelligence lingering within them.

The way he watched her was in no way romantic. At least, it wasn’t the way he watched other girls. Pidge was… Pidge. She was completely and totally out of reach, like a sister to him. He had never once considered treating her like how he treated Allura or Nyma or that one mistake, Mae. Pidge just… wasn’t like that and he didn’t dare consider her as that. So while he looked at her, he felt almost uncomfortable. For she was Pidge, and he was Lover-boy Lance. And she was not like the other girls. She was Pidge.

And that was all.

As though hearing his inner turmoils, she turned to face him then, tugging her arms almost protectively around her legs and pulling them into her chest. Pidge’s eyes narrowed playfully, her eyebrow threatening to rise. And then, she spoke for the first time, tone condescending.

“Can I help you?”

It took him awhile to answer, and the answer came out as stupid as it did in his head. “Can  _I_ help _you_?”

Pidge snorted, turning her face towards the window yet again. “I take that as a no.” She drawled, her eyebrow raising.

Lance, who also turned to look back out the window, let out a wry chuckle despite himself.

It would perhaps be another varga before one of them broke the fragile silence that had formed between the two, but when it happened, it was Pidge who had gained the courage to crack the barrier.

“It’s pretty,” she said awkwardly, not taking her eyes off the twinkling stars. “Prettier than the last solar system we stared at together, huh?”

Lance turned towards her in disbelief. “‘Pretty’?” He parroted. “This coming from the girl who said sunsets happened all the freaking time?”

Pidge frowned. “Geez, no need to leap down my throat, Lance. Just trying to lighten the mood.”

“Hm. Kay.”

Pidge snorted again. “What?”

Lance failed to suppress a smile. “Just that you’re tryna lighten the mood. Isn’t that my job?”

It seemed to be a prime time for Pidge’s snorts. “Well yeah I guess. Isn’t it more Keith’s style to brood Edward Cullen style in the middle of the night?”

Lance pouted playfully, nudging her in the side. “Hey,” he said. “Never compare me to Keith again, you midget or I shall throw thee out the airlock.”

“Alas,” she sighed, buying into this odd medieval theme. “I am but a girl, and threatening to throw me out the airlock will earn thee the guillotine. For obviously, girls like myself cannot take proper care of themselves. We are dainty and fragile.”

It was Lance’s turn to snort. “Yeah right.”

“Oh, Sir Lancelot. How little you know about women. Considering you never actually get anywhere with them.”

“Hey.” He pouted.

Pidge snickered, her hair bouncing on her shoulders as she did so. Lance laughed along with her, enjoying this odd little night with Pidge besides the control console in the main hall.

“Do you ever feel like you don’t belong, Pidge?” He asked her once they calmed down, thinking that if anyone were to sit with him for three nights straight, that maybe… just maybe… they weren’t as dispassionate as they had originally appeared. “Like… I dunno… like you’re kinda the seventh wheel?”

Pidge went silent for a minute, contemplation brewing in her eyes. “Well I guess so.” She replied finally. “I mean, I am the weakest. Physically at least.” She fiddled with her hands, which were rather small. “I’m tiny and not… really strong I guess. But not usually. I normally try to focus on what’s good about me to drown out the bad stuff.”

Lance looked at her. “Yeah?”

She smiled. “Yeah. Like I’m good with computers–“

“Nerd.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

She blinked. “Anyways, I’d like to think that I'm valuable to the team because I’m good at technology. I feel like that kinda cancels out my physical weaknesses, ya know?”

“Yeah. You’re like super smart.”

Her brows furrowed, and she scooted closer, the tawny hairs atop her head almost brushing against his chin. She looked up at him, eyes wide and inquisitive. The biggest eyes he had ever seen. “What about you?” She asked.

Lance frowned down at her. “What about me?”

Pidge tilted her head. “Don’t you think about your strengths every once and a while? You do have some, you know. Despite what everyone teases you about.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

Pidge grinned. “You’re nerdy and quirky and really good with a gun. And don’t take this too well,” the grin widened, white teeth gleaming in the starlight. “But you’re…” an unwilling grimace. “...actually kinda funny when you’re not trying to flirt with every girl that moves.”

“Hey, I don’t flirt with _every_ girl!” He rebutted. Pidge raised an eyebrow. “I don’t flirt with you, do I?”

Pidge’s eyes widened, a gleam of something akin to pain flashing in her eyes before she turned away, taking a sudden interest in the silk ties on her pajama bottoms.

 _Oh, shit_. “Pidge, I didn’t…”

“It’s fine.” She said curtly, rising to her feet. “You never actually do.” The door slammed shut behind her, leaving Lance alone once more. He frowned, sighing in embarrassment and fatigue.

“Aw, shit.”

***

The next night Pidge came back to accompany him was the ninth. Lance was gratefully relieved; his nighttime visits to the room became less and less nightmare related and more and more Pidge related. His heart dropped into his chest as he took in her silhouette at the door. “Pidge!”

She padded in carefully, warily, taking her normal seat besides him. Pidge was wearing a nightgown today, Lance realized. A soft pink nightgown that brought out the light gold in her brown eyes and hair. His heart was pounding so hard he was wondering if she could hear it. Her eyes passed over him once, inscrutable. “Hey, Lance.”

“Piiiiiiidge… I’m, uh…” He ran an anxious hand through his hair, lacking its usually charismatic hair flip.

Pidge offered him a wry smile that was in no way genuine. “Wow, Lance McClain struggling to form a coherent sentence,” she drawled sarcastically. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

He sighed. “I’m sorry, Pidge. It wasn’t supposed to come out like that… or at all.” He revised when her eyebrow shot up.

The air seemed to go out of her, like she was a balloon deflating before Lance’s very eyes. “It’s never really bothered me,” she told him. “Your flirting sucks.”

Lance winced. “Ouch. Guess I deserve that one.”

Pidge chuckled mirthlessly. “Don’t take it too hard,” she replied. “Everyone says that.”

“True.”

They lapsed into uncomfortable silence.

“I’m just the goofball right? The one who can never get anything right and the seventh wheel of Voltron.”

Pidge looked at him. Winced. “Yeah I guess you’re the goofball. But you’re not useless. A lot of people rely on you, Lance. They just… express it in a different way.”

Lance scoffed. “Yeah by punching me and yelling at me whenever I try to be myself.”

“Flirting with alien girls isn’t who you really are, Lance,” Pidge said. “It’s only a part of who you are. A part that’s kinda annoying.”

“Wow, thanks.”

She smiled before grimacing. “Just…” she shook her head. “Never mind.”

Lance frowned, but allowed himself to let it go. “Well what do _you_ think I really am, huh Pidge?”

“I already told you, idiot.” She quipped with an eye roll. “You’re funny, quirky and nerdy. Everyone loves you, Lance. You make people laugh, you make people want to be your friend. You made me want to be your friend as soon as I met you at the Garrison. Sure I was looking for my family, but it… was nice to have someone to talk to.” She shuffled her feet. “I… never really had many friends.”

Lance snorted. “What?! Why?”

She gave him a sidelong glance. “Cause I got along better with technology than with actual people.” She deadpanned.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.”

“Well you have friends now.”

“True,” she nodded. “I have friends now. And I do forgive you,” she added. “For blatantly telling me you’re never going to flirt with me.”

Lance grinned. “What, Pidgey-Pie, were you jealous?”

He couldn’t be sure, but it looked as if a rose colored tint had mounted itself upon her cheekbones. “What? No!”

Lance did a double take. “Wait… were you _actually_ jealous?”

Pidge glared at him. Yep there was definitely a reddish tint to her cheeks. “No! I said, _no_ , Lance. I am not jealous.”

A grin made its way across his lips. A triumphant grin that finally made him feel better about himself. “Uh huh,” he chortled. “Yep. Sure. And pigs can’t fly either.”

“Pigs _can’t_ fly.”

“How do you know?” He asked innocently. “Slav says there’s multiple realities where pigs can fly.”

“...”

“Though I bet there’s no reality where Pidgey-Pie isn’t hopelessly in _loooooooove_ with Lancey-Lance.”

“Lance!” Pidge hissed exasperatedly. “Please shut up!”

“Pidgey and Laaaaance sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I–“

He would never get to finish.

Soft lips pressed chastely upon his own, moving against his mouth with aching tenderness. He took note of the pleased sound Pidge made at the back of her throat when his hands came up to instinctively catch in her hair. It was as soft as the kiss, silky and fine as it wrapped around his fingers welcomingly. His heavy-lidded gaze fluttered, the feeling of Pidge’s tiny body curling against his, an odd but soothing feeling. Her warmth human and welcoming. For a second, no other girl came to his mind. Not Nyma, not Plaxus, not Mae, not Allura.

Only the one he had considered off limits resided in his arms and subsequently his head. Only Pidge Gunderson, Katherine “Katie” Holt. There was only her for the briefest moment.

And then as soon as it began, it ended, leaving Lance dumb and dazed with shock. His eyes fluttered open, mouth opening agape as he rested eyes on Pidge, who looked as if she would rather hide in a hole and never ever come out.

Her face was definitely red now. There was no way in hell he had imagined _that_.

He opened his mouth only to close it again. “Wha–?”

“Shut up!”

He laughed. “You were totally jealous!” Lance exclaimed. “Oh my God, Pidge! You really have it bad for me! That is…” he frowned. “Actually kinda weird.” He watched Pidge pale and quickly revised his statement. “No! No! Uhhhh… not weird. Not weird at all. Kinda sorta… nice. Really actually nice.” Pidge looked dubious. Lance kissed her again, a brief, hasty one on the mouth. The feeling he got from it wasn’t unpleasant. It was a nervous flutter, butterflies in his stomach as he looked down upon the littlest paladin with her large brown eyes and her mussed tawny hair.

“Really? You sure? Cause this is really kinda awkward. Not exactly how I pictured this in my mind.”

“No, I mean yes! Yes it’s not weird. Yes it is... nice. Very very nice.” he decided with a nervous but genuine smile. “I can… I can get used to this.”

He may not have known what love was the time he first kissed Katie “Pidge” Holt. All he knew was what it was not. Love was not aimless flirting. Love was not trailing girls who were boisterous, girls who were voluptuous. Love did not come merely from girls who had long streaming blonde hair, sweeps of brown and red and black. Love was not present in the eyes of girls who held that sparkle of mystique, that feminine pull that reduced boys to a puddle of hormones.

He did figure out that love came in the most unexpected ways.

He did figure out that the strangest things could come of jealousy. Even love itself.

He really had no idea that he would find love in Katie “Pidge” Holt. The ungirliest girl he had ever met in his entire life. The girl who had no idea she was as pretty as she was intelligent, the girl who always prided herself on that intelligence instead of beauty. The girl who had never considered herself to be anything else than an engineer or mathematician.

But he did.

He did.

**Author's Note:**

> Again. So sorry.


End file.
